


Asking You

by orphan_account



Category: Cinderella 2015
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Love, Official - Freeform, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surely a regal edict was enough to suffice as a proposal? They had attended countless state dinners and made official appearances as a betrothed couple, that was enough, at least..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asking You

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked you.” Kit said out of no where, looking up with a frown from his letters, and across the breakfast table Ella released a befuddled laugh. “Asked you to marry me, that is.” He added, searching his memory. He had only just assumed she wanted to, and she had gone along with the arrangements and all - he did not doubt she wanted to marry him, but he never actually requested for her hand. If circumstances had been different, he probably would have begged for her heart, but he did not even pause to question her devotion to him and his to her.

“You released a royal decree.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Declaring your love for me and your intent to wed me as soon as I came forth.” Surely a regal edict was enough to suffice as a proposal? They had attended countless state dinners and made official appearances as a betrothed couple, that was enough, at least..

“But, you didn’t come forth.” Kit pointed out. “Circumstances that we shall not ruin this day by discussing prevented you from voluntarily declaring yourself, and I removed any form of you consensually entering into the supposed engagement by seeking you out.”

“I suppose so.” Ella agreed, though she wasn’t quite sure it mattered. They were going to marry, and both parties wished to wed, and so it hardly changed anything if he didn’t propose directly to her. She took a sip of tea, her eyebrows knitting together in a show of uncertainty, not aware where he was leading the conversation.

“You do want to marry me, right?” He checked, suddenly very cautious of what sort of situation they were know in.

“Of course!” Ella cried, desperate that he should never doubt it. She loved him, he was her everything - he had been the person to reinstall her faith in kindness and courage, the one who had assured her that love was real, that goodness was real, he was her Kit. “But, I don’t quite see how this matters of a sudden. I want you to be my husband and I your wife, you know that. Why should you be required to ask?”

“Social obligations…” Kit shrugged, shaking the discussion off, before his eyes flicker back from over the top of the letter. “Romantic sensibilities…”

“Which entails?”

“Flowers, gifts, a presentation of a ring, perhaps?” He suggested, listing off the first things that came to mind. Things he had heard about from friends, read in books, watched in theatre and opera.

“You have given me an ample amount of flowers.” Ella reminded him, recalling the numerous bouquets of roses and flower arrangements placed in her rooms on his orders. “Too many gifts to count-” A home was the least of it, ranging from dresses to a bequeathment of a substantial amount of money (that she controlled solely) to preserve and repair her ancestral estate and so much more.

“They don’t count if you deserve them.” He interrupted, meaning (in his mind) nothing he could ever give her was simply a gift. He was merely paying homage to the goddess like image of perfection that had graced him with her attention, adoration and affection.

“And I don’t need an engagement ring to convince me that you love me, or to ensure you keep to your word.” Ella concluded, ignoring his objection. “I have absolute faith in you, in that regard and all others, and I am perfectly content just being here with you.” That didn’t ease the idea that had begun to circulate.

“Would you care to take the evening meal with me in a different location?”

“We aren’t dining together tonight.” She replied. “You have paperwork to finish, finalising the Grand Dukes.. case.” Exile, she meant, but it was best not to remind Kit of what he was doing, he was well aware.

“Phillip can take care of that, I’m sure.” The King answered. “All the documents requiring signatures have been signed, and he can forge it, I’m sure, if he is dire need to.” Ella restrained a laugh. “Why else does His Grace have access to the royal seal if not to impersonate me when I am off enjoying myself?”

“I’m not quite sure that is the reasoning behind it.” Ella smiled, making use of one of her knowing looks that reminded him distinctly of a mother listening to their child attempt to wheedle their way out of doing an especially odious chore. “Have dinner with me.” He urged, and she did not refuse.

* * *

 

“You have certainly out done yourself.” Ella declared, shaking her head as she entered the stone gazebo like stricture, drawing in a gasp at the beauty Kit and the servants had contrived. The candles were flickering around the still evening breeze of on-coming autumn, illuminating a lavishly laid out dining table that Kit was already sitting at, a mischievous grin on his face.

“I think we did pretty well.” The King agreed, rising to his feet as the splendid image of his beloved blessed his vision. She looked particularly gorgeous tonight, with her hair lose and eyes bright with anticipation, making her way towards him with a soft smile on her lips. “I missed you.” He admitted, even though they were still separated by a metre or so and there were servants nearby (although they were at a considerable distance, even out of hearing range, perhaps).

“We saw each other at noon.” Ella sighed, sliding her hands into his, though he understood she also missed him.

“That does not make it easier.” He warned her, and for a second, a perfect second in time, he was content to simply hold her hands in his and revel in her presence. He had requested the required chaperones to keep their distance, the footmen and guards (that Lance insisted were necessary, Kit was convinced, for no other reason than that Phillip had instructed him to do so, in hopes of irritating their mild mannered monarch) being stationed off to the sides. Even with knowledge that they would hear nothing, and claim to have seen nothing, Kit still leant closer to his love, just for the sake of intimacy.“You look beautiful.” He whispered against her cheek, laying a kiss on the colour than instantly rose where his breath touched.

“Thank you, you look..” Kit watched her brows knit into a frown as she searched for a word. “You look like you are planning something.”

“I may be.” He allowed. “And I also may not be.”

“How very coy.” Ella teased. He thought he was being smart, and in many areas he was an incredibly subtle maneuverer - just not on the romance frontier, when he became an adorable and occasionally flustered jumble of intellectual thought and awkwardness. One thing, however, that no one save an observant Fairy Godmother noticed, was that even if Ella was the only one who could send him into a sense of nervousness he never had appreciated before, she was also the only one who could draw him out - the only one that well and truly brought the best out of him, and he did the same for her.

“Our attendants are to be posted a considerable distance away, tonight.” He smiled again. “So we may speak as we wish.”

“You have orchestrated this precisely, I see?” Ella laughed. “Then I shall tell you that I love you, Mister Kit, and before you ask, the answer is yes.” Of course she knew why he had gone out of his way to set up the meal, and the special setting only confirmed her suspicions. His face fell, but only for a brief moment.

“How did you..” He shook his head, realising he had not been a very subtle operator. “I still intend to ask it.” Kit affirmed and Ella sent him a questioning look.

“Kit, I don’t want you to think that-”

“I don’t think that I have to earn your attention through lavish gifts, my love.” He completed her sentence for her, knowing what she would say. “I know you would love me, even if I never gave you a betrothal or a marriage ring - which, you understand, is not an option.” Ella laughed again, and Kit caught her hand as it went to move aside a lock of hair from her face. He studied her hand for a while, the way it looked intertwined with his, and for the thousandth time that day he knew he made the right choice in borrowing that guard uniform. “I want you to know, however, that I will continue expressing how I feel about you until the end of my days. I will never stop wanting to give you gifts, whether they be flowers or rings or a horse.” He winced at his own mention of his soon to be revealed gift he would be presenting her tomorrow, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “More on that later.” He promised. “Just as I will never stop wanting to kiss you.” They were both very thankful he had the foresight to have the attendants remain at a distance, Kit leaning in closer to plant a tentative and short lived kiss on her lips.

“I love you.” She murmured, their foreheads still resting against each other when she did. “You are so unbelievably perfect and I will love you until my last breath.”

“With that promise in mind, Ella, I would like to ask you a question.” Kit grinned, fishing something out of his jacket as she looked into his eyes, alarmed at the action.

She understood he would ask her, but she hadn’t expected a ring. She supposed she should have, but her practicality had set in and while she appreciated the sentimentality, she failed to see it’s symbolism so far into their relationship. Their foreheads were still pressed together, one leaning on the other, when Kit whispered in a next to inaudible volume the long awaited, and apparently unneeded, question.

“Ella, my love, will you marry me?” As her response was to seize his lips with her own and permitted her fingers to curl in his hair, Kit assumed it was a positive answer and so, when they paused for want of air, he slowly slid the ring onto her finger and she laughed and smiled, and she did see that it symbolised something. It meant that her husband-to-be would never stop in his endeavours to convince her of just how much she meant to him, that in his mind, at least, she was perfection and the world, and that, no matter what she did, he would always love her and she would always love him. “It would give me the greatest pleasure if I might lead you through this, the first dance.” He requested when she took a double take on the shining jewel now attached to her finger.

“You remembered this time.” Ella said approvingly, accepting his extended hand graciously. Their meal sat, forgotten at the table, for hours as the pair danced and danced, and then they talked and talked, finding themselves in their secret garden in the end, just as the clock struck midnight.


End file.
